


Turning Pages

by maharieel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Reconciliation, reading lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharieel/pseuds/maharieel
Summary: Fenris is haunted by what he didn't say that one, fateful night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was brought on by the prompt: "i would have stayed if you'd asked me to."

Once, Fenris had often found himself in the Hawke estate. Leandra had always welcomed him with somewhat opened arms (the woman still not entirely sure of him, with good reason) and had offered him some expensive tea from Orlais that she all but hoarded in the pantry. He had found himself unable to decline the woman the first time, too preoccupied by shock; it had been one thing to see the woman amongst the rotting floorboards of Gamlen’s hovel, but to see her in all the prestige of the estate brought to light how much she resembled her daughter and Fenris had not been prepared for such a revelation. He had followed her around the lower level of the estate mindlessly, taking in the elegance and eerie déjà vu of the place, until Hawke herself had made an appearance.

The sight of her in nothing but a pale pink robe should have shocked him, he supposed, but it was her free-flowing hair that had instead caught his attention as she floated around the room by her mother’s side. She’d been asking about if her mother was treating him right, or something, he wasn’t really sure, too engrossed by the way strands of hair had swept around her shoulders and down her back like liquid gold.

“He’s here for personal business, mother,” Hawke had quipped as she took a teacup of her own. “Which sadly, is none of your business.”

Leandra had sighed heavily at that and the incredulous look she had shot her daughter had not escaped him. “Just remember we have arrangements this afternoon. I’ve been planning this for months.”

“Of course, mother,” Hawke said as she had paraded from the room, ushering Fenris along beside her.

They had spent the majority of the morning in the study, until the pink and orange hues of a new day had faded from the sky through the window to a mostly-cloudless blue. Fenris had held her tea while she poured over the shelves for an appropriate book for their lesson and eventually the pair had settled besides one another at the table. She’d handed him the book, took her tea, and leant back in her chair to listen.

“’Orlesian Etiquette’”, Fenris had all but groaned. “Really?”

The hint of a smirk curled at her lips. “It’s simple and good for practice. I could always get the fairy-tale one instead?”

He had promptly turned back to the book and begun the struggle of getting through the pages.

Hawke had offered a few weeks prior to tutor him in reading and ever since, he had found himself sitting utterly too close to her in the study stumbling over words he had never bothered or had the chance to comprehend. On occasion, she invited him for breakfast as well which was always an interesting affair, just him and the two Hawke women who were mirrors of each other sitting around a table gossiping about the local nobility. One morning Carver had even joined them during a day’s leave from the Gallows and Fenris did not think the look of utter horror on the boy’s face at seeing him at the breakfast table beside his sister would ever leave him.

Months had passed to such a rhythm; the domesticity of it all had been a surprisingly pleasant change for Fenris. He had not let himself slip from his usual routine in so long the deviance was refreshing. Hawke’s study and kitchen and breakfast table had become familiar to the touch and for the first time in a rather long time Fenris had felt himself lose the air of nervous fear that had encased him since his time on the run.

That was, until he left Hawke and Leandra died and the Qunari ravaged the city.

The whole thing had almost broken Hawke, _had_ broken Hawke, and it wasn’t until at least two months after that he found himself admitting that he missed the routine reading lessons and breakfasts. It wasn’t for another fortnight after that until he found the courage to go to her estate and ask for her to continue them with him. Selfish, he supposed, but his heart had drove him there more than anything.

Bodahn had let him in with a small smile. “Mistress Hawke is upstairs I believe.”

“Thank you, Bodahn.”

It didn’t take long for him to find her. She was at the desk writing what appeared to be a letter, the flow and swirl on the quill’s ink capturing his attention for long enough that he forgot to announce himself and instead had to suffer the embarrassment of her turning to find him staring at her from the entry. She barely started, as if she had somehow expected to find him lurking in the shadows of the estate like any regular poltergeist. Instead she simply turned back to the desk and finished the sentence she had been writing.

“Fenris,” she said as a way of greeting. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing his throat, Fenris walked over to glance out the window. “How’s being the Champion treating you?”

That got the ghost of a laugh to spill from her lips. He just barely caught the makings of a frown forming between her brows from the corner of his eye. “Dreadfully, although what should I have expected, being forced to deal with this piss-pot of a city?”

“Who’s the letter for?”

“The First Enchanter,” she sighed. “The man doesn’t seem to understand that no matter what rubbish he spits at me I’m not going to suddenly run around aiding known apostates under Meredith’s nose.”

Fenris pushed away from the sill, facing her with a raised eyebrow. “Says the known apostate.”

Hawke looked like she was resisting the urge to throw the quill at him. “Don’t test me elf.”

He let a rare smile slip and after a moment longer of glaring at him, Hawke’s face eventually melted into the familiar grin he had almost begun to mourn. Her hair was hastily tied in at the nape of her neck but stray hairs still framed her face and in the early morning light, the blue of her eyes shone like sapphires. His heart twisted at the sight of her and despite himself he turned away before she could see his expression slip.

If there was one thing Hawke was, though, it was observant and he knew full-well that she would have noticed the waver in his smile. He busied himself with the hem of his tunic while she signed her letter and called for Bodahn. The two of them lived in an air of naivety for that one moment of peace while Bodahn came in and took the letter with a bow and a promise. The door clicked shut and a ripple went through the air as Hawke stood, pushed her chair in and turned to him with a melancholic expression.

“You didn’t come to hear me vent about my struggles,” Hawke whispered, one hand bracing her on the desk.

Fenris couldn’t meet her gaze. “Hawke . . .”

A sharp movement caught his eye as Hawke flicked her wrist at the door with a flash of purple light. He noticed the door open slightly to let a frigid breeze in. Her attention hadn’t shifted from him once. “You needn’t feel pressured, Fenris. I just wish to help.”

A sudden fit of frustration overcame him as he strode to the door and pushed it closed again. A deep breath rattled out of him as he leant against the frame, both hands splayed flat against its thick wooden surface. Behind him, he didn’t hear Hawke move.

“I . . . things have been eating at me for so long I am not sure how to . . .” he mumbled. “How to voice them.”

A shift in fabric, but she let him continue.

“That night, what I did was unmanly and undeserving of a woman like you. I was scared and wasn’t sure how to deal with the flood of memories and emotions in me and I . . . I hurt you,” he said, failing at hiding the crack in his voice. “I’m sorry Hawke. I’m so sorry.”

He turned then to find her sitting against the desk, hands braced on either side of her and eyes purely for him. The hems of her robes shifted as she shook her head slightly at him. “There’s no need for an apology, Fenris.”

“But I –”

“Did what you had to do,” she said, voice holding none of the hurt or anger he had fully expected it to hold. “I won’t hold that against you.”

The only thing he could think to do was pace. Countless minutes passed them by as he tried and failed to wrangle the sea of emotions banging against his heart, desperate to break through the barrier he had erected there himself some time ago. The sight of Hawke naked in bed with eyes pleading him to stay, to not give in to the fear, still haunted him. He _had_ been foolish and there was no sane reason why she would have him back as a friend, let alone . . . whatever it was he wanted her as. And yet a part of his heart sat awake at night and yearned for the one thing it craved more than life itself.

“If you had asked me to stay, I would have,” he whispered to the ether that had become the study.

The silence lingered on for a moment longer before he felt her fingers graze his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He turned, a frown creasing his brow as she whispered back, “I know.”

Fenris gazed out the window across the room, anything really to avoid the sympathy in her gaze that he did not deserve. Before he had to comprehend an answer to her, she continued.

“I know you would have and that’s why I didn’t. If what you needed was isolation from _us_ then I had no right to interfere. I couldn’t force you into another cage, Fenris, not after everything.”

He could have kissed for that alone, _would have_ if it was a better time and a better place and they weren’t the people they were. Instead he met her gaze for the first time in what felt like eons and thanked the Maker for letting her be the one who happened to stumble into the Alienage that night years ago, with her too-blonde hair and foreign accent and hauntingly blue eyes. He took her hand from where it was still resting against his shoulder and gripped it in his own for a moment, eyes not leaving hers as he let her words sink into the deepest facets of his battered, weary soul.

“Don’t go weeping on me now,” Hawke muttered under her breath, the heat of it hitting Fenris’s cheek.

“Hawke . . .” he breathed, letting her hand slip from his grasp.

Before he could get embarrassed again she slowly begun pulling him into a hug, always gentle and understanding of his limitations after so many years by his side. Oddly, Fenris found himself wrapping his arms around her in turn after the initial shock of the gesture had worn off, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She smelt of lavender and peonies. Her hands started methodically rubbing his back as if through some personal magic she could tell where every ache plagued him and he felt himself unconsciously melting into the embrace.

“We’ll be ok,” she said into his hair, her voice nothing more than a sigh. “We’ll be ok.”

He stayed in the study reading with Hawke until Bodahn called them down for lunch some hours later, and standing beside her in the kitchen – Bodahn’s ranting about the kid who tried to pick pocket him in the market making Hawke glow with laughter –  Fenris found himself feeling at home again for the first time in a long while.   

**Author's Note:**

> i'm trash


End file.
